Death From Above
by Vespera1
Summary: very short story...so, very short summary.


Disclaimer: I do not own the teenage mutant ninja turtles, their friends, enemies, relatives or pets. They belong to the nice people at Mirage Studios, who I'm hoping won't sue me for writing stories about them. Right? *Crickets chirp* Oh poop..  
  
  
  
Death From Above  
  
  
  
He doesn't know I'm here. I'm surprised he can't feel my eyes on him, but maybe he's relaxed because he's at home. Then again, he's the one that's supposed to be the great ninja, strike hard and fade away into the night. I'm not impressed. I've been watching him for ten minutes now, and not even a hint that he's noticed the attention.  
  
There he sits at his desk, scratching away on that piece of paper. He does that a lot I've noticed. Scratching on the paper, or making food in the kitchen, that seems to be what he does the most. How do I know this? Easy. I've been watching him on and off for months now. Do you see why I'm not impressed? You think he would have figured it out by now.  
  
No, he just sits there at the cramped little desk in his room, lamp shining a pool of white light in the darkness, lost in thought. I can hear the others outside, in various other parts of their home. The loud one is watching TV. I can hear the sounds as he makes the channel change every other second. Over and over, he just stares at the flickering screen. The mean one is in his room. I can hear him typing, the clack clack clack of the keyboard to his computer. I don't go in there often. There's nothing of interest.  
  
It's from the lack of sound I know the rat is home. If he wasn't the loud one and the quiet one would be fighting again, or the loud one would be gone as well. I don't know what to make of the rat. It's the biggest one I've ever seen, and that makes me nervous. I try to avoid him wherever I can. It's not as hard as it sounds. He rarely comes out of his room.  
  
The quiet one is the last of the others here. I've watched him practice a few times, and he impresses me. I think he's the only one who's noticed. But he keeps quiet about it. A point in his favor for observation. Lose a point for communication. Heh.  
  
Oh, time for a new paper. He puts the one he's been scratching on to the side of his desk, and takes one with no marks on it, and starts over again. What a waste of time. Silly turtle. Maybe I should do something about it.  
  
He's wearing a shirt today, that's rare. Some faded black thing with lettering and a skull on it. I like skulls. They hold juicy sweetmeats. No sleeves though. It looks like they were torn off decades ago. The shirt is good, it will give me something to grip when the time comes. His shell doesn't offer enough purchase for what I have in mind.  
  
Yes, I think I definitely will do something about his silly scratchings. Here I sit in his own room, and he doesn't even notice me watching him from my vantage point. I really think a little lesson in awareness is in order.  
  
Silently, carefully, I get to my feet. Still he scratches away at the paper. I squint a little, focusing on the stick he's using, the way the end bobs up and down, and moves from one side of the paper to the other.  
  
The timing is almost right, almost, closer...there! I leap! My aim is perfect. Now he senses something, but it's too late my friend, much too late. I land with a thump, spin and leap, all in a fraction of a second. I can hear him yell, and his hand misses me by a hair. Too slow! If it wasn't for his shell, he'd be bleeding by now. I take a small amount of pride in that.  
  
There is my ultimate target. I lash out at it and...yes! Again, my aim is perfect, the prize is mine! I dash for the door, victory assured.  
  
"Klunk! Get back here with my pen!!"  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: Yes I realize this is incredibly short, but hey what did you expect? Its not like cats have the longest attention span out there. Although after watching mine, I know for a fact they have a sense of humor. Read and Review please. Laters all! And before you ask , yes Don is the mean one... what else would a cat call someone who constantly kicked them out of his lab so he wouldn't contaminate experiments? 


End file.
